The Dare
by LittleWing
Summary: AU Story, eventual Janto. While in a club with his fiance, Ianto Jones is dared to kiss a random stranger. Please see chapter 6 for important information regarding the future of this story, thank you.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or any of its characters.

Authors Notes: This plot bunny bit me while listening to Katy Perry's "I kissed a Girl" and just would not let go. This is not beta'd, so please pardon small typos. Also, I am not Brittish, so please don't scream at me if I got any of the slang wrong, I will happily accept corrections. Please let me know if this is worth continuing. It was meant to be a one off, but now I'm thinking that it could become a multi chapter. And for the record I don't dislike techno, actually listened to it quite loudly while writing. Thanks. P.S. anyone have a better title suggestion I'll happily consider it. Ack! Forgot to preview it!

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**The Dare**

Techno music pulsed through the tightly packed club causing Ianto Jones' head to throb in sync with it in similar fashion as a migraine. He didn't want to be out at all. Lisa, his girlfriend of two years, and he had only moved to Cardiff the day before and he was more than tired. But he could never deny Lisa anything…a fact she loved and on occasion exploited. And going out to this club with people either of them barely knew, but that Lisa would be working closely with, was just such an occasion.

Weaving his way cautiously through the mass between the table the group was occupying and the bar, Ianto carried a fruity mixed drink for Lisa and a straight up whiskey for him. Everyone at the table roared with laughter as he moved closer. He tried to ignore the laughter and what he was certain were the stares of everyone, including Lisa, at the table, but it nagged at him like the music pumping through the speakers.

He gave Lisa her drink before sliding into the chair next to her, nipping a sip of his whiskey as he went. The feeling that he'd missed the joke grew as he glanced quickly around the table. Everyone had a drink in hand, wearing a Cheshire grin, and staring in his general direction.

Nervously he took a longer drag of the dark amber liquid contained in his glass when he heard someone to his left say, "do you think he'll do it?"

"Do what?" he asked feigning casualness, setting his glass on the table.

Lisa's hand slipped on to his thigh, stroking in light stripes before giving him a gentle squeeze. She was nervous. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was nervous about something; something that had to do with her new coworkers and what had occurred at the table in his absence. The fact that she wouldn't look at him when he looked at her told him how nervous she was.

"Of course he will," she said, ignoring Ianto's question as though he'd never asked. "I only need ask."

"Do what?" he asked again, louder, annoyed that he'd been ignored the first time. His mind raced with scenarios of what the people his fiancé would be working with had come up for him to do that would cause such nervousness in her. The first involved drinking, the next dancing with someone that wasn't Lisa, others included public sex or something that would be daring and yet just barely legal. None of what he came up with was anything he had any interest in doing. But it appeared that Lisa had let her new coworkers know that he would do anything for her. There was nothing he could deny her, not if it kept her happy—even forgo his own happiness.

"Well," a woman with short, dark brown spiky hair said, setting her drink on the table and leaning in closer. Her top was sequined, and shone bluish in the lights of the club. "Go on and ask him then."

Ianto looked from the woman whose name he couldn't remember and Lisa. The look on Lisa's face was one of nervous wonder, while the woman wore a mask of curiosity—her eyes twinkling brightly in the pulsing lights of the club. The headache Ianto'd felt coming on since setting foot in the noisy dance club began to grow and anxiety took a stronger hold over his mind. Going to that bar had definitely left him out of something, and he wasn't sure now that he wanted to know what he'd missed any more.

"Ask me what, Lisa?" he asked, turning to face his fiancé more fully, hand reaching for his glass of liquor absently. Despite his mouth asking for the information, on a whole he didn't want to know. He really wanted to down the last of his drink, head for the door to the club, hail a cab, and head back to their flat.

"While you were up getting the drinks conversation came round to snogging and whether anyone'd ever snogged someone of the same sex," Lisa said, casually reaching for her drink and taking a long sip. If he didn't know better, Ianto would have thought that she were attempting to avoid the rest of what she wasn't saying, but he knew better—she was drawing out to what she wanted him to do. What she knew he would not deny her, even if it cost him a bit of his dignity.

"And?" he prompted when it became clear that she wasn't going to continue with her request.

"And," she said stretching the word out to more than its simple syllables, "I let it slip that you hadn't. At least not as far as you've ever told. So, we thought that perhaps you might oblige us with a little lip action between you and a random man."

On autopilot Ianot's hand shot out for his glass. Bringing it to his lips he realized that there was less than half a sip of the amber colored liquid left. Downing what was left of his drink, Ianto set the glass back on the table and ran a slightly shaky hand through his short brown hair. He couldn't help but stare in shock at Lisa. She'd done some pretty mean and wild things with and to him when they lived in London, but he'd never thought that she'd ever stoop to this.

"You want me to what?" He didn't bother to hide the shock in his voice, as struggled to raise it above the volume of the music.

"Find a random man to kiss," she said as though she were ordering another drink.

"Can I speak to you a moment?" Ianto asked, standing from his chair; hand loosely round Lisa's upper arm. She nodded lightly, allowing him to pull her away from the table and toward a darkened corner of the club.

The music was softer in the corner, and Ianto could almost hear himself think, almost. He stopped tugging on Lisa's arm once they reached the corner. He couldn't bring himself to believe what she'd asked of him at the table. His head began to pound more earnestly away from the loud music filling the dance floor.

"Why would you ask that of me?" His blue eyes bore into her chocolate browns icily. Of all the things she could have asked for, and has asked for, this was the one thing she knew would be the most uncomfortable for him. Men held no particular interest for him. He'd never been curious about kissing one. Not once had he ever considered what it would be like to press his lips to another man and feel their stubble or beard against his face.

"It just came up, Ianto," she said sullenly. "I didn't plan for the conversation to turn to this. They dared me to ask you if you'd do it."

"And of course you'd already bragged about how you could get me to do anything, right?" He snapped at her. He pulled away from her, shocked at his own outburst. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol, or the headache, but couldn't bring himself to. Nor could he allow himself to vocalize the word "sorry" like he wanted to. He was sorry that he'd snapped, but not sorry about what he'd said.

"It wasn't like that," she said quietly. "Look, we can go back to the table tell them that we had fun, and then say we're going home, yeah?"

He stared down at her, trying to decide if she was being honest with him or if she were attempting to play him again. Sincerity was written over her face and in the depths of her eyes.

"Yeah," he said, allowing her to pull him back to the table full of her now very drunk coworkers.

"So?" Dana, the one with the sequined top, inquired the instant they reached the table.

"He's said that he'll do it," Lisa announced brightly, digging her fingers into his forearm.

"What?!" he snapped at her announcement. "You said that we could leave."

"We will. Look just take two seconds to do this, and I promise you a very good time when we get home." She looked up at him through dark lashes the way she knew he liked.

His resolve melted at the look. It was one of the reasons he could deny her nothing.

"All right," he sighed in defeat. A small peck, that was it; nothing more. "Who's it going to be?" He looked round the club for someone suitable.

"Him," Lisa and Dana said in unison, pointing toward a man a few tables over.

Ianto stared at the man the women had pointed at. The man was very attractive, Ianto had to admit that. He could make out full lips pulled back into a tooth baring grin, and dark hair mostly spiked up through the every changing lighting of the club. Though the man read as handsome from where Ianto stood, he held little hope that he was as handsome close up. Thank God it's dark in here, Ianto thought as he stared at the man chosen for him to kiss.

"Well go on," Lisa encouraged giving Ianto a light shove in the direction of the man she'd help point out.

He stumbled slightly at her push before catching his balance. Shuffling his feet slightly as he moved Ianto made his way to the handsome man's table. The music pounding through the club shifted, as did the lighting, to a slower less irritating techno beat. His headache eased slightly. His hands shook with nervous energy the closer he got to the man's table. Stopping short of the man's table Ianto took a steadying breath, and looked behind him to Lisa and her cluster of coworkers. All of them wore smiles and expectant stares. He shook his head as he witnessed two of the men, Jason and Scott, hand money to Dana. Turing away he reminded himself that Lisa was the reason he was standing just feet from a man he'd never met, would hopefully never see again, with the sole intention of kissing said man. He took another shaky breath before turning his attention back to the table and the man sat at it.

He blinked and almost breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the table empty. He glanced round the immediate area in hopes that the man truly was gone. Kissing a stranger, let alone a man, was low on his list of things to do at the moment. What he really wanted was something for his headache and to go back to his flat and sleep.

"Are you thinking of stalking me?" breath scraped across Ianto's ear as an amused voice spoke.

"Erm…" Ianto muttered as he spun round to face the person who'd sneaked up on him in the crowded club and spoken in his ear. Ianto suddenly found that he couldn't breathe as he recognized the man standing before him as the man from the table.

"Well?" the man prompted, lips pulled tight into a line.

Ianto absently licked his lips as he tried to think of how to make sense of the entire awkward situation. "No," he said finally, seeing annoyance in the man's blue eyes, "no, I'm not considering stalking you…pretty much figured you might already have one of those." Not his best of comebacks, he knew that, but he could always blame the headache if called on it.

The man smiled, bringing a glass to his lips to take a swig. "Cute," he drawled, stepping closer to Ianto.

Ianto fought his urge to take a step back as the very handsome man invaded his space. The lighting in the club wasn't as bad as he'd hoped, nor was the man ugly up close. In fact he was far more handsome up close. Ianto compressed the thought to the back of his mind.

"Why were you staring at me then?" the blue eyed man asked leaning in closer to Ianto in order to be heard over the music.

"My girlfriend made a dare with her friends," he said, locking his gaze onto that of the man before him. "A dare that I really don't want a thing to do with…"

"A dare, huh?" the man leaned closer. Ianto nodded. "What kind of dare? Stalk a stranger?"

"No," Ianto bit out. He once more fought the urge to reclaim his personal space by taking a simple step backward. "No, nothing like that." He tried to smile, but only managed a brief pulling back of his lips before settling back into the impartial line he'd had them pressed into.

"That's good to know then," the man said, lips pulled back into an easy smile. "Care to share what this dare is then?"

"They want me to kiss a stranger," Ianto admitted, adverting his eyes to the floor in embarrassment. He could feel the heat of a blush settling over his entire body. Hope flitted briefly though him that this stranger would also not want to complete the dare and let him off the hook, but a brief barking laugh dashed the hope.

"Is that all?" the man questioned. Ianto could feel the man's eyes on him—studying him.

Against his own desire to not look at the man, his mark as it were, Ianto looked up from the floor to the man's sparkling blue eyes. There was a mischievous glint to the man's eyes. Ianto couldn't tell what the man had in mind, but he could tell that the man was not as adverse to the dare he'd been tasked to complete as he was.

"What do you mean 'is that all'?" Ianto asked, anger suddenly pouring through him. "It's bloody embarrassing that I'm even standing here talking to you while their over there gawking at us like we're creatures behind the glass at a zoo!"

The man took a half step back, looking across the tables to the group of people staring at them in complete anticipation. Ianto felt rather than saw the man's body straighten tight with tension as he looked at Lisa and her new coworkers. He once again felt a blush spread over his body.

"Of all the things to happen since I moved here this has got be the strangest…and possibly close to the sexiest…" the man said barely above the music once more pulsing quickly through the club. "They want you to kiss a stranger, yeah?" the man asked, suddenly invading the last inch of Ianto's personal space. He nodded, not trusting that he could speak loud enough to be heard over the music. "Jack," the man said, suddenly pulling away from Ianto's personal space.

Confused, Ianto looked fixed his gaze on the man. "Huh?" he grunted. He'd been sure that the man, Jack, was ready to grope him or plant a sloppy wet kiss on his lips. But the thick presence of Jack standing so close to him suddenly pulling away coupled with the name Jack, had thrown Ianto. It was unexpected—very unexpected.

"My name," the man laughed, not moving any further away nor coming any closer, "is Jack. You are…?"

"Ianto," he said, unsure if Jack was able to hear it over the music permeating the club.

"It's nice to meet you, Ianto," Jack said, lips parted in a broad smile and hand offered up.

"Likewise," Ianto said, taking the hand in a firm grip, still confused over what was going on. One moment Jack had filled every inch of his personal space before pulling back far enough to offer up his name and hand. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs he was certain the music in the club, tiredness, the actions of the stranger, and the headache that had made a return had caused. Without the headache Ianto had no doubt he'd be able to follow along with whatever game it was the stranger, Jack, was suddenly playing.

"Now," Jack said, lips unexpectedly brushing against Ianto's ear, "we know each other."

"Huh?" Ianto repeated still lost in his confusion. Though now he knew that it wasn't the club's music, or tiredness, or embarrassment, or even the headache causing the confusion his brain was continuing to muddle through—it was the warmth of Jack's cheek resting against his. Blush once more covered his entire body, and he was sure Jack could feel the heat radiating from his own face. "Oh," he said quietly as realization began to blossom in his mind at what it was Jack was doing. "Oh!" he exclaimed as it finally slammed through his sluggish mind.

They knew each other's names. He was no longer some strange man in a club looking like a potential stalker. He was Ianto, man with a ridiculous dare to complete. And the handsome stranger was no longer just the handsome brown haired man picked at random to be his mark. He was Jack, the tall handsome man who had no problem invading the personal space of other people…and if Ianto wasn't mistaken American.

"So now," Jack drawled out slowly, cheek still pressed to Ianto's as he spoke in the other man's ear, "this dare of yours…"

Ianto could feel Jack's lips pull back into another grin. Jack was relishing this. Ianto could tell by the way Jack spoke and stayed too close for Ianto's comfort. Ianto dropped his chin down toward his chest, inadvertently resting his forehead against Jack's shoulder. For the briefest of moment's he'd forgotten the dare, bet or whatever you wanted to call it, and been full in to meeting a new person. He'd hoped that perhaps Jack would have forgotten altogether or at least would have dropped it.

"Yeah, the dare," Ianto whispered.

"You're not comfortable," Jack said, pulling away to catch Ianto's eye.

Blue met blue in a scrutinizing gaze, before Ianto lowered his eyes to the floor in the sudden urge to study his shoes. Relief at Jack's realization should have flooded through him, but Ianto didn't feel relieved. He wasn't sure how he felt actually. He was mortified over what he'd allowed Lisa to talk him into and how far he'd already taken it. He didn't have to kiss anyone he didn't want to. He didn't have to give Lisa that hold over him. Yet, he had done exactly that by going for Jack's table.

"You could just walk away," Jack suggested, disappointment saturating his words. Ianto almost laughed at the thought that Jack actually want to kiss a total stranger, even if they did happen to know one another's first names. "You can't can you?" Jack studied him again. Ianto snapped his eyes up from his shoes to stare at Jack. "No," Jack breathed a laugh, "not because you actually want to go through with it, but because of the girlfriend…am I close?"

Ianto nodded. Jack was right. He couldn't back out of the dare, even though he wanted to, because of Lisa. He didn't want to blame Lisa for his absolute in ability to say no to her. It was his weakness, not hers. One day he'd have to shock her and tell her no. That day was not upon him yet, but if she had asked for more than this of him he would.

"I'll help you, Ianto," Jack said, drawing closer to him once more. Jack's hand came up slowly, as though Ianto would run away like a spooked deer, to rest on his shoulder. "We didn't know each other until five minutes ago, so…"Jack blew out a breath, as though he were about to say something he really didn't want to, "I'll help you complete your dare, and we will probably never see each other again."

Ianto nodded unable to look away from Jack's gaze. Honesty shone in the blue eyes boring through his and rang through the words Jack had just said. With any luck, Ianto thought, Jack would be transferred back to American and this scene in the club would merely be a story to tell of his wild days in Wales.

"All right," Ianto said after a few beats, giving in to Lisa, her new friends and now the man standing so close to him it was beyond uncomfortable.

"Yeah?" Jack questioned.

"Yeah," Ianto confirmed, managing to pull himself closer to the man he'd only just met. Just a quick, soft peck on the lips, he thought as Jack brought his hand from Ianto's shoulder to cup his cheek.

The palm of Jack's hand was warm against the skin of his face. Carefully, giving Ianto plenty of time to back away or stop what he was about to do, Jack tilted Ianto's face up as he bent in. Moving deliberately slow, the American man brushed his lips lightly over the Welshman's before pressing them more firmly together.

Ianto waited a beat in hopes that Jack would pull away and the short brush of lips followed by the pressure of two sets of lips pressed together would be all there was. He was ready to pull away and break the kiss when Jack's lips moved carefully over his. Ianto closed his eyes and released his breath through his nose. Matching the movements of Jack's lips Ianto began to move his lips with Jack.

The hand Jack had used to cup Ianto's cheek slowly slid back and down slightly to hold at the back of his head, tangled in his hair. Jack's other hand grappled at Ianto's waist somewhat before quickly finding purchase and drawing Ianto's body flush to his. Ianto allowed himself to become lost in the feeling of Jack's lips moving with his, hands woven into his hair and splayed at his waist. To Ianto's surprise Jack didn't move the hand at his waist lower.

At first Ianto kept his hands at his side, but as Jack deepened the kiss Ianto brought his hands up to Jack's chest. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to push the other man away or weave his fingers into the fabric of Jack's shirt and pull him closer. The decision had still to be made when Jack gently drew Ianto's bottom lip into his mouth.

Jack sucked lightly at Ianto's bottom lip, running his tongue over the soft flesh. Without thought Ianto moaned, slipping one hand up Jack's chest, along his jaw and into his hair. His fingers tangled into Jack's hair, pulling his head closer still to Ianto. Jack didn't hesitate in dipping his tongue into Ianto's mouth, savoring the taste of the other man. Ianto allowed Jack's tongue a moment to explore before tangling around it.

As their tongues moved together, exploring and battling slightly for dominance, Ianto forgot about Lisa and her coworkers staring that he and Jack; forgot that the kiss would not be happening if not for a stupid, childish dare. He forgot about the music pulsing through the club, and the throngs of people moving to it. And more importantly he forgot about the headache that had been pounding in time to the music.

And then it was over. Jack's lips pulled away from his. Ianto wasn't sure who had actually broken the kiss he just knew that they suddenly felt cold and wet as the air in the club hit them. Jack moved to rest his forehead against Ianto's and just stared at him. Ianto met the gaze steadily.

"Hmm…" Jack hummed. He blinked slowly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "That was the best kiss I'll never have again."

"Quite possibly the only of its kind I will ever have," Ianto said in agreement.

"Hope we meet again someday, Ianto," Jack whispered in Ianto's ear before pulling his hands free of Ianto's body and disappearing into the crowd of the club.

Ianto had no answer to Jack's statement of seeing each other again. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man again or not. He honestly wanted to go home and sleep…forget the kiss ever happened even though it was the single best kiss he'd ever had. Running a hand through his hair Ianto stared into the crowd where Jack had disappeared before slowly turning to face Lisa.

The guys of the group began to cat call him as he neared them. Ianto couldn't help the blush that spread over his face. He didn't want to be known with them for kissing Jack.

"I'll take one of those," he heard one of the girls in the group profess.

"I'm going home," Ianto leaned down and shouted at Lisa's ear. "I've a headache." And he did. Seconds after Jack's departure, the pulsing music once again crushed into his head reminding him of the pulsing within his own head.

He didn't wait for her to object or react just headed for the front exit of the club. He carefully weaved his way through the dancers spilling off the designated dance area. The crowd thinned as he neared the exit. It was then that he realized just how stifling hot the club was and how oppressive the air in there felt. Without hesitation and with purpose, Ianto pushed the doors to the club open and stepped out into the cool Cardiff air. He didn't turn to look behind him at the closing club door, nor did he scan the area in hopes of seeing Jack, as he strode off in the direction of his flat.

TBC???


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or characters from Torchwood.

Authors Notes: Thank you to all who have reviewed and/or put this story on alert, I am truly flattered. Little nervous about this chapter, as it is a bit shorter, but ending it where I did felt natural. Hope that this chapter lives up to the first. Also, have come to the conclusion that perhaps I could use a sounding board for this story. I have some ideas of where I could go with this story, but am not entirely sure about them. Volunteers can message me. Again, I am not Brittish (though I do have someone who doesn't mind answering my questions on slang, Thanks Little Sweet Pea!), and the extent of my travels was a trip to the Caribbean three years ago. Long notes I know...I'm a rambling neurotic that way. And the headache pain description is taken directly from my experience with migraines and tension headaches, with which I have more than 15 years worth of knowledge (including curing them, well the migraines any way. All right enough babbling on to chapter two. Hope it's enjoyed. And this chapter is as unbeta'd as the first.

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**The Dare**

**Chapter Two**

Ianto Jones' feet moved of their own volition along the city's sidewalks as he made his way back to the flat... the flat he shared with Lisa. He groaned inwardly at the thought of having to deal with her when she came home later. Embarrassment still flowed through him as the kiss Jack had given him played through his mind. A part of him had hoped Jack would be outside the club when he'd left. He wanted to apologize for putting him on the spot, though the American hadn't seemed to mind one bit, the way he had. This should have been the event, the one thing, that had him telling Lisa no. He was ashamed that it wasn't.

His lips still felt swollen from Jack's kiss as he unlocked the front door to his building. More than once on his journey from the club to his apartment building, Ianto'd caught himself running a finger over his lips. He'd yank them away and admonish himself for the absentminded touch…only to find that his tongue was not immune to his fingers wandering. He couldn't bring himself to wonder why. He didn't want to think about Jack's lips pressed over his. Jack's hands on his body, or the other man's tongue in his mouth. He wanted to get inside his flat, shower, grab some pain tablets and fall into bed to sleep.

He was grateful for the emptiness of the lobby as he made his way to the lift his head began to pound more heartily. Shuffling his feet into the lift, Ianto leaned against the wall and stabbed at the number 3 on the button panel. The doors closed and with a jerk he was whisked to his floor. He tried not to notice how dizzy the lift's movements made him feel. Damn headache, he cursed as the lift came to a jerking stop on floor three. With a quick step Ianto exited the lift and made his way up the hall to flat number 9.

Turning the key in the lock, his thoughts once more slipped to the club and the dare—his tongue once more darting out to glide over his lips. He hastily slid a hand through his short hair, only to find that it stopped and pulled at the exact spot Jack had tangled his hand less than an hour before. He pushed the door open and gave his head a violent shake in an attempt to clear away thoughts of the American from the club. Stepping inside he gave the door a solid shove to close it before stumbling his way to the kitchen.

The pounding in his head only became more severe after shaking his head. He shifted his list desirable activities from shower, pain tablets, and sleep, to pain tablets and sleep as he lumbered around the kitchen. Through pain blurred eyes he managed to find the bottle of aspirin he'd unpacked the day before, placing it in a small cupboard near the sink. Shaking out three tablets he moved on to finding a glass for water. Damn it, he cursed himself mentally. He hadn't unpacked any of the dishes yet. He had that planned for the next day, as Lisa had insisted on going out with her new coworkers before having to report to work in the morning. They'd been having take away since they moved.

Ianto shook his head faintly as he once again reminded himself of the evening's events. He let out a harsh scoff as he forced his body to the sink. He turned the faucet on letting it run to cool as he tipped his head back and dropped the tablets into his mouth. Quickly he placed a cupped hand under the cool stream of running water to fill his palm. It wasn't ideal or even much water, but it was enough to allow him to swallow the tablets. Shaking his hand dry, he reached out and shut the flow of water off.

Sleep was the last item on his list for the evening. Summoning what strength he had left, Ianto made his way to the bedroom tucked just on the other side of the living room. Through a pain filled haze, he made his way around boxes and furniture and into the moderately sized bedroom. Slowly he pulled his jacket off and dumped it on the floor by the door. He stumbled a bit as he toed his shoes off just inside the bedroom. Catching himself on the bed frame, Ianto finished stripping his clothes from his body.

With a sigh of relief at finally being at the flat, and able to climb into bed Ianto fell heavily onto the bed. Tension left his body as he sank further into the mattress. The pounding of blood rushing through constricted vessels in head lessened as he closed his eyes. As the feel and sound of the blood pulsing through the vessels in his brain lessened, Ianto could feel himself begin to drift toward sleep.

Scenes of the days played vividly in his mind as his mind began to float toward the black nothingness sleep offered. Lisa and him that morning at the coffee shop round the corner where they had breakfast and she informed him of the plans she's made to meet up some of her new coworkers; himself moving around boxes as he decided what needed unpacking straight away and what did not; later at lunch with Lisa at some little café not too far from the coffee shop; and then everything that had happened at the club. His last conscious thought as his mind finally gave up the fight to stay conscious was of Jack's lips on his and his anger at Lisa for putting up to the dare in the first place.

Slowly Ianto Jones' mind clawed its way back from the black oblivion of sleep. He rolled heavily onto his back blinking his eyes against the dark of the bedroom. Beside him Lisa stirred lightly. Scrubbing his hands roughly over his face, Ianto let out a soft sigh before clamoring from the bed. The bare wood of the floor was cool beneath his feet sending a slight chill through him. He closed his blue eyes and reveled in the feeling of the cool floors momentarily before pushing his body toward the door.

Carefully he maneuvered through the living room to the kitchen. He grabbed the refrigerator handle yanking it open. The light inside blinding him for a few seconds, as he blindly reached for the bottled water they'd bought—or rather he'd bought—at a nearby shop the previous day. Twisting the cap from the chilled plastic bottle, Ianto stepped away from the refrigerator, allowing the door to fall closed on its own and throwing the room once more into inky blackness.

Moving carefully once more Ianto made his way to the couch in the living room. His mind once again mulled over the events in the club and how his fiancé had used him to make herself appear to be one of them. He glared at the clock sitting atop the television. 4.38 a.m. it said in bold red numbers.

He'd thought for sure he'd slept longer than six hours. Should have guessed not with it still being dark, he mentally reprimanded himself. He brought the bottle of water to his lips drinking deeply. He hadn't noticed that Lisa had returned from the club, let alone had come to bed. Blue eyes tracked down the hall to glower at the darkened room. He almost would have preferred she not come home at all to her lying next to him as though nothing had happened. He let out a long breath before taking another long sip of the water from the bottle. Course he couldn't put all of the blame for kissing Jack on her shoulders; as Jack had pointed out he could have simply walked away. But he didn't. Instead he'd stayed, kissed Jack and make his girl look good in front of her friends.

The headache he'd come back to the flat to sleep off slowly began to pound through his head again as he allowed himself to wonder what else her new found friends would get her to dare him into. Where would it stop, if he didn't make it clear that kissing a strange man in a club was it? Would they force him to do something illegal, by proxy, because as ever it would be Lisa—not her friends—batting her lashes at him, making him feel a heel and thus getting him to do exactly as wanted? Or would they make him track Jack down, or worse track him down themselves, and insist on more than a mere kiss between them? He shuddered at the thought of more than a kiss with Jack.

He stared back at the television set and the clock sitting atop it proclaiming the hour in bold red against the pitch black room. Ianto snorted a laugh at the television. At the time they'd bought it he'd wondered why they needed it, neither of them had a job that allowed them much time for viewing programs. And it'd cost more than he really wanted to afford. It was typical Lisa to go for the status symbol rather than what was actually needed. He shook his head lightly, closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa.

"Ianto?" Lisa's voice sounded in the hall. "You out there?" she asked stumbling into the living room.

He waited until she flipped on the hall light before answering…there was no point in not, now that she could plainly see him.

"Yeah," he said dryly, not looking at her.

"Are you all right, love?"

"In a word," he said, forcing his eyes to open and gaze to fall on her, "no."

"Look," she said, moving from the threshold of the hall to where he sat on the couch. Carefully she folded her body to fit between his bare knees. "At the club…things got a bit out of hand."

"Oh really?" He glared down at her. He didn't want to hide the anger and embarrassment he'd felt at the time or was still somewhat feeling now. "And who won the bet, Jason or Scott?"

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him through long dark lashes, pleadingly. "I should have not given in to them." Her hands came to rest on the bare skin of his legs just above the knee. "Forgive me?" Her hands slid up his thigh to his hip and back down suggestively.

"Oh but you would have, wouldn't you?" He didn't move; didn't give in to her touch or sweet look. "You let them know that you've got a man who'll do whatever you say and I proved it when I kissed that man!" He stood abruptly, forcing her hands away from him. "Did you for one moment stop to think about me or did you only think of making yourself look good to those people?!"

"I…I…Ianto…Yan," she stuttered staring after him.

"I'll not yell at this hour, Lisa," he said harshly from by the window. "Don't want to rouse the neighbors." He almost smiled. "But I can't forgive this. You used me to get yourself a seat at the popular table, Lisa. You knew that I would never do anythin' like what you and your click made me do."

"You could have said no."

"I did, or did you miss that part?" he snapped, setting the bottle of water down in the window sill. "You told me okay. But the second we got back to the table you told them I'd do it! You more than put me in an embarrassing situation, Lisa, you lied to me."

"I'm sorry, Yan," she said, turning on her knees to crawl the short distance over to him. "I should have thought it through better."

Ianto let a snort of air out of his nose at her comment.

"You know what, Lisa?" He stared down at her incredulously. "I think the only reason you're sorry is that I'm still mad. I didn't come crawling to you after it was over. I walked away…left. I'm thinking that maybe I should make it a bit more permanent. Where would it end with you and your friends and the dares, Lisa?"

"I swear, Yan, that's the only dare I would ever let them pressure me into forcing on you."

"But, Lisa, don't you see that that won't matter with them? They'll want to see what else the puppet master can get the boy on the strings to do. Is that what I am to you, a puppet?"

"No, Ianto, of course not," she said, reaching out to run a hand over a leg of his boxer briefs. "What can I do, Yan, to make this up to you?" Both hands were on his underwear, reaching for the elastic at the top.

"_That_," Ianto spat at her, batting her hands away, "will fix nothing. We're broken, Lisa…I'm broken, and I don't think there's a way to fix us. "

"Let me try, yeah?" She stood. Hurt and honesty floated in her eyes.

"The problem, Lisa, is that I don't trust you anymore," he said flatly. "You've work in three hours," his voice softened, "go back to bed. We can sort this later." He turned solidly back to stare out the window not watching as Lisa made her way from the room.

"Yeah," he heard her whisper as she left.

Dawn would be upon them soon and things always looked differently in the light…they usually glistened. He didn't want that dare to glisten, shine or glow…he wanted it to have never happened.

Staring out the window Ianto felt tears begin to fall silently from his eyes and cursed Lisa anew. Wiping harshly at the tears Ianto decided that he needed some space…time to think. It didn't matter to him if Lisa wanted to give him the space or not, he was taking it. He'd sleep on the couch for a while. He'd start work in another day, so until then all he needed to do was avoid Lisa—at least until he'd figured out what else there may be to say to her. He'd had his say and was not all that concerned with anything she had to say.

He tensed the muscles in his jaw as he thought about the time they'd spent together. The things she'd managed to get him to do with a simple look. He'd loved her…or he'd thought that he loved her, but now he wasn't so sure. He was sure that she didn't love him. If she did she would never have gone along with her friends at the club. She never would have felt the need to bat her eye lashes at him to get him to do things.

The sun began to peak over the roof tops of the surrounding buildings filling the dark sky with light. Ianto continued to stare out the window. The pounding of the headache that had begun to creep back to the fore of his mind was gone.

"Will you be here when I come back?" He heard Lisa move behind him.

He turned to look at her. She was dressed for work in a smart skirted suit. He'd helped her to pick it out last week before they'd left London. He stifled a smile. She looked good, he had to admit that.

"Where else 've got to go?" he questioned.

"After…Just wasn't sure," she said at last, "that's all."

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," she said, taking a hesitant step toward him only to pull back when he flinched slightly. "We'll talk later?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, "we'll talk later."

"I do love you, Ianto," she said quietly, grabbing her hand bag from the kitchen counter and heading out the door.

Ianto glanced out the window one more time before deciding it was past time he had the shower he'd so wanted the night before. Wetting his lips, he swept a glance around the room and sighed. Nearly everything was still in boxes. Picking up his mostly empty bottle of water from the window sill, Ianto padded through the living room, and down the short hall to the bathroom. Unpacking, sorting his things and repacking them could wait until he'd had his shower…and perhaps a walk to clear his head.

In the morning he'd start his job and getting his head in order needed to be done before then.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or any of its characters.

Author's Notes: Meant to get this chapter up over the weekend, however writing it was a bit like pulling teeth. So after much frustration and a copious amount of chocolate I finally got it finished. Want to take moment to thank everyone for reading, reviewing, favoriting, signing up for alerts--I am very flattered. Also many, many thanks to Little Sweet Pea for the help in answering my questions on Brittish slang. As I said in previous notes, I am not from the UK. Two more quick things, there is a reason why Ianto cannot eat have fish and chips and that's because I gave him the disease I have and has now become a big thing with the plot I've come up with. I will reveal the disease (don't worry it's not going to kill him or anything like) in later chapters. And two I had a bear of week last week and ended up being a bit mean to Ianto (nothing too bad). Will hopefully have an easier time with chapter four. As always enjoy and let me know whatcha think!

* * *

**The Dare**

**Chapter Three**

Ianto moved carefully around the boxes lining the living room, and along the wall under the window. He'd been at unpacking and repacking them since he'd gotten out of the shower nearly two hours before. The boxes containing his things lined the wall under the window, whilst the boxes still sitting in the living room had yet to be sorted. He'd been tempted when he first began to search for his things to break some of Lisa's things, but decided against it. He didn't want to have to owe her on top of it all. Instead he settled for neatly repacking her things in the box after he'd carefully taken what was his from the box.

He glanced up from his box of coffee making supplies to the digital clock atop the television to check the time. Half past one it said. Ianto sighed heavily and carefully closed the box, taping it closed. He'd missed lunch. He placed the box on top of one under the window. Five more boxes and he'd be done sorting his things from hers. It was slow work—even though he really was trying to make go as quickly as possible. Sorting through two years of life together to pull it apart was not as easy as he'd hoped it would be.

He opened another box. Giving the contents a quick look over he closed it up, taping the flaps back in place. Moving on to the next he repeated his actions of opening the box, looking over the contents, and then resealing the box with packing tape. Four more boxes down, six more to go he thinks plopping another box beneath the window with the rest of his boxes. A rumble low in his belly stops his hand from pulling another box towards him. His blue eyes, dark purple circles from lack of sleep causing them to stand out better, search out the brilliant red of the clock above the television. Quarter after three.

Ianto pushed himself away from the box, thrusting a hand through his hair as he pushed himself to his feet. He stared at the boxes lining the span of wall beneath the window, letting out a low sigh. His life had been reduced to nearly eight boxes and a broken relationship. Not exactly what he'd planned for his life when he had left Wales six years ago. He certainly had not envisioned ever wanting to leave Lisa. He had even put in for a transfer from Torchwood Institute London to Torchwood Institute Cardiff when Lisa had come home with news that she was not only being promoted, but transferred. It had taken him a little while to get his request approved. Torchwood Cardiff was a smaller office and research facility than what they had at Canary Wharf in London, but ultimately his transfer had come through.

He shook off his thoughts as his stomach let off another loud protest against being empty. He looked at the clock again. It would be hours before Lisa would be home from work, and she always worked late. He couldn't keep the hope that she'd go out to pub with her new friends from his mind. If she went out before coming back to the flat he could have all the boxes sorted, lay his suit out for work in the morning, and have the sofa made up for sleeping. His stomach growled again, reminding him that it was beyond time to eat.

Snatching his keys from the counter top where he didn't remember dropping them, Ianto slipped on a dark grey hoodie as he made his way out the door. Unlike when he'd come home the night before the lift and lobby of the building were far from empty. A woman with a colicky baby walked aimlessly round the lobby trying to hush the child, while a teen on the lift played a video game. He ignored them as he stepped from the lift and moved swiftly across the lobby. Pushing the door open Ianto stepped out into a sunny summer afternoon.

A warm breeze raked through his hair as he made his way down the street to the café he and Lisa had discovered while searching for a flat. The coffee there was decent, but the pastries and food was better, or so Lisa had said. Their first meal there had been just after seeing the flat they had moved in to. Lisa'd had a tea and with her fish and chips. He had settled on a salad, sans the croutons and vinaigrette dressing on the side—deciding that it was best to stick with his strict diet than make himself sick on something he'd missed and really wanted to eat. Lisa had teased him, lightly, about his diet telling him that was always too thin and offering him a chip.

Ianto shook the memory off as he slid into a chair at the café. He didn't want to spend time dwelling on the good times with Lisa. No, doing that would only lead to him second guessing his decision to leave and have him staying; only to find that Lisa and her new friends decided he needed to have sex with one of them or some stranger for kicks. They'd call it dare, and Lisa would bat her eyelashes and he'd go along with it. No, thinking of the good times with Lisa was not something he cared to do.

His mind wandered as he ordered water and his usual salad, sans the croutons, with vinaigrette dressing on the side. He let his thoughts roam to which suit he was going to wear to work in the morning. The black one with fine dark grey pinstripes, matching waistcoat, dark purple shirt and complimentary tie, he decided.

"Thank you," he said as the server sat his food and beverage before him on the table. She smiled and asked if he needed anything else before leaving. He shook his head no. Looking around the café he was surprised as how busy the place was for the late afternoon hour. Carefully he slid the small basket of bread sticks across the table, before grabbing up his fork, spearing a cherry sized tomato, and returning to his roaming thoughts.

His natural, logical desire was to categorize and label each wayward thought that crossed his mind, but there were too many. And anger kept attaching itself to each memory he brought up of Lisa since their move from London. The dare…he'd tried to forget the entire ugly episode since Jack had disappeared into the masses at the club; tried in vain to forget the way Lisa'd betrayed their time together, his trust in her, all to get in good with her new coworkers. The fact that she'd lied to his face bothered him the most. She hadn't even batted an eye when she'd done it. That broke his heart and embarrassed him more than the kiss Jack had given him.

He ran through a cucumber, dunked it in the vinaigrette and popped it in his mouth as his thoughts turned to the one thing he had yet to mull over—the kiss from Jack. Not thinking about the kiss and the man who had shared it with him, had not been Ianto's intention, Lisa and what to do had taken priority in the past few hours. Even now, closing in on a day later, he could still feel Jack's lips soft and warm against his. He still felt the heat of Jack's palm pressed firmly at the back of his waist and his other hand buried in his hair. While unpacking and packing boxes back at the flat he wondered what he'd do if he were to meet the man again.

He teetered between apologizing for Lisa and her group's idea of entertainment and just turning the opposite direction, quickly. He was equally confused over whether he even wanted to see Jack again. He was almost certain that he never would. Cardiff was large enough, and tomorrow he would start at Torchwood Three as the personal secretary of Mr. Jackson Harkness the director of the Cardiff branch of Torchwood.

According the people he'd spoken to in London and the files he was able to read, Mr. Harkness had transferred to Cardiff a more than a year ago from America where he'd worked for ten years. He'd been labeled as difficult, but always saw results. In fact it had been Mr. Harkness who'd finally approved the transfer. Though, as Ianto had learned later, it had taken a while for him to sign the paperwork. No one could or would tell him why Mr. Harkness had suddenly changed his mind about the transfer; it was as if one day he'd woken up and just decided against the no he'd firmly sent back to London for weeks. At the time Ianto had just been happy to finally be able to move with Lisa that he'd never once thought about the why behind it. Gift horse and mouths, he thought spearing through his last tomato.

He flipped over the bill that'd been left sometime near the end of his salad. Laying the required amount of money on the table, Ianto left the café. He stopped outside to enjoy the warmth of the sun—honestly the first time he'd seen and felt it since moving. A breeze blew, raking through his hair and giving him the sudden urge to walk down by the bay. Shrugging off the urge he turned away from the route that would have taken him to the bay and headed back to his apartment building. There was more unpacking and repacking to do.

The strangest thing, he realized as his feet carried him along the sidewalk to his building, was that Mr. Jackson Harknesses file lacked an employee photo. He'd supposed that that was the director's prerogative and then never really thought much about it. His own file sported the typical employee security photo, the same one that was on his badge, which usually turned out as nicely as any ID photo does. Not Mr. Harnesses though. His file was void of any photographic anything, only the stats of his time with the company. One more day and he'd know what his new boss looked like—though knowing ahead of time would save him the time of having someone point the boss out. Ianto hated being ill prepared for things, and not knowing what his new boss looked like was one of things he really didn't like being unprepared for.

He sighed, pulling himself from his thoughts and looking at his surroundings. He over shot his building and gone two blocks past. Cursing himself, Ianto turned sharply from his wrong direction. He shook his head and attempted not to laugh at himself on the public street—didn't want to appear crazy. Another realization hit him as he once more began his journey back to the flat, he'd shaken his head more than he could remember ever doing since Jack had kissed him and he'd walked away from Lisa. He laughed inwardly once again giving his head a shake.

"'low, mate," a coarse voice grumbled in Ianto's ear, as he felt himself jerked sharply to the right and away from the people walking casually along the street. His back was slammed painfully into the brick wall on one side of the narrow alley. He let out a yelp of surprise.

"Keep it shut," the same coarse voice bit at him before he could open hid mouth to speak.

He tried to fight his fear and look at his abductor, and mostly won. The man looming before him was middle aged, or at least appeared to be. He was an inch or two taller than Ianto and wore a dirty khaki colored duster that almost made it to his ankles. Hazel eyes stared determinedly at Ianto. His view of the man's stubble peppered face tipped sharply up as the cool, sharp edge of a knife was pressed firmly into his jaw. He closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that he was not being held at knife point in an alley. Ianto opened his eyes when he heard the man chortle.

"Grab his wallet," the man said.

Feet shuffled, scraping against the cement of alley floor. Seconds later a hand was patting at his backside, fingers fumbling inside his pockets in search of his wallet. The fingers didn't linger long as they fumbled in and out of his back pockets, of which Ianto was grateful. Tugging at the back of his jeans pulled Ianto's attention from the knife point still held firmly against his neck. With one last tug the small leather object his captors wanted was liberated from his pocket.

"Got it!" a voice sounded, echoing off the walls of the alley.

The knife suddenly disappeared from his throat; a sharp click told him that his captor had closed whatever kind of knife it had been. Pain erupted suddenly as a thick fist was slammed into his solar plexus, followed by a quick punch to his mouth. He fell with a grunt of pain to the floor in a heap. His mind barely registered the sound of his assailants' feet as they scuffled over the alley floor—a dull ache in his lip and midsection being the only thing his mind wanted to focus on. He coughed and pulled in ragged breaths, finally pushing his body to hands and knees. He could barely believe how incredibly shitty his week was turning out to be. First his girlfriend had lied to him while pushing him into the arms of another man, then he'd decided it was time to end everything with her, and now…mugged and beaten in an alley. The desire to ask the cosmos what next flitted through his head as he heard a soft plop near his head and a grumbled "tourists."

Daring himself to look, Ianto noticed his wallet on the floor just a few inches from his face. Letting out another cough he reached for it. Fingers dug deeply into the leather, Ianto gritted his teeth against the residual pain in his midsection and forced his body to its feet. He leaned against the wall he'd only moments ago been shoved against at knife point taking deep breaths he reached his empty hand up to tenderly touch his already swelling lip. His hand shook slightly at he held it down enough for him to see the blood on his fingertips. Holding the soft leather wallet in his hand, Ianto pushed himself away from the wall wrapped his harm still clutching the wallet round himself and forced his feet to carry him the block back to his building.

He ignored the gasps he heard from some of the people mulling about in the lobby and made a beeline for the lift. He stabbed at the up button with a shaking hand. Shock was beginning to set in. He'd been mugged. The doors opened and a young couple with a set of twins filed out, as he slipped on. His free hand darted out to punch at the number three on the button console as the doors began to slide closed. He closed his eyes and sank against the wall while the lift jerked and shot up. A few moments later the lift jerked to a stop. Ianto let out a shaky breath, steeled himself for the walk to the flat, and pushed himself away from the lift wall. The doors opened and he did his best not to stumble out.

Twisting the key in the lock, Ianto turned the knob and pushed the door open. Moving slowly he entered the flat and went straight for the bathroom. He tried not to look in the mirror over the sink as he turned on the water and grabbed a face towel. Holding the face towel under the stream of cold water, Ianto finally allowed himself to look in the mirror. Pink, purple, and blue fought for dominance on the pale skin of his jaw. The left side of his face was swollen ever so slightly and his lip was badly split; blood caking in a thick scab over it. Carefully he touched the bloody scab with the face towel.

Satisfied that the cut to lip was cleaned properly, Ianto slowly pulled his shirt up to have a look at his midsection. Pulling the shirt up to rest just under his armpits he did his best to look over the forming bruise. He was surprised at the size of the mark; it was smaller than he'd anticipated. He'd expected a much larger bruise for the pain the punch had caused. Gingerly he ran his fingers over the medium purple and blue mark, before rolling the shirt back into place.

Flicking the switch, Ianto left the small room and headed back to his task for the day, unpacking and repacking boxes.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Torchwood or its characters

Author's Notes: This chapter took longer than anticipated, and that was mostly real life's doing. But in spite of real life and all that here is chapter four. This chapter didn't quite go the way I'd planned, but the characters had other ideas. Hope y'all like it. Many more thanks to Little Sweet Pea for continuing to help me with some of the British slang that I might otherwise kill. As I have stated in previous chapters I am not from the UK, nor have I ever been. Need to send my thanks to both Little Sweet Pea and Kodiakmac for their fabulous help and wonderful input with the plot. Okay well heading off to bed and hoping that I'll have time to start chapter five tomorrow. Not the world's fastest writer, but I'm shooting for at least weekly updates. Hard to do with two very energetic children...and the baby's 10 months old tomorrow, just in awe of that. Oh and please pardon typos...I haven't taken the time to edit it much yet.

* * *

**The Dare**

**Chapter Four**

Ianto Jones stared at the patch of ceiling above the sofa and sighed. His official first day at Torchwood Institute Cardiff would begin in less than two hours and he really wasn't looking forward to going—not with a slightly swollen lip and what he was sure was a large blue/black bruise on his jaw. He'd surely be labeled a trouble maker. Although, telling the truth about how he'd gotten beat up could be worse than being labeled as trouble. He ran a hand down the non-bruised side of his face and groaned as he rolled from the sofa.

Quietly he gathered his suit and under garments from where he'd laid them out the evening before, and padded to the bathroom. Closing the door, Ianto flipped the lock on the door to keep Lisa out before hanging his suit on the peg at the back of the door. Carefully laying the rest of his clothing on a shelf, he opened the shower stall and turned the water on. He tried to ignore the thoughts and memories of the club and Jack that continued to push their way to the fore of his mind. Despite his attempts to keep the memory of Jack suppressed, it crept back to the top of thoughts and mind every chance it got. This time it flashed through his mind as his hand tugged his pajama bottoms off, and again a moment later when he pulled his tee shirt over his head.

He blushed at the thought of Jack's hand flat against his back sans the shirt. That night Jack had kept his hand above the clothes, and to Ianto's surprise above the waist. Quickly he stripped his pants off and stepped into the warm water spraying from the shower head. He ducked his head beneath the spray of tepid water, images of Jack once more playing through his head. Jack's hand at the back of his head—fingers tangled in his hair. The warmth of Jack's soft lips on his own had him once more running his tongue along his own lips. Damn it! He mentally scolded himself for allowing his thoughts to wander to the man he would never have met had it not been for Lisa.

Lisa, he thought with a snort. Lisa who'd thrown him under the fastest bus she could to get herself a seat with the popular kids. Lisa who got the bed while he acted the gentleman and took the sofa…the sofa that was going to put his back out if he used it as a bed too much longer. He lathered shampoo through his short locks, as he hoped that he could find someone at Torchwood who either needed a flat mate or knew someone who did. There was no way he could stay with Lisa the entire time it would take him to find a new place. With luck whoever he was able to stay with would have a spare bed in the room he'd be renting. He'd have to ask about storage facilities too. He didn't want to store too much at someone else's flat. Mostly, he figured, he'd his kitchen supplies for cooking or making toast.

Shutting off the water, he rested against the tiled wall of the shower a moment, before opening the door and grabbing a towel from the bar on the wall. Quickly he toweled off, wrapped the towel round his trim waist, and stepped out. Air cooler than the water had been enveloped him sending a shiver down his spine, as he stood before the mirror above the sink. Dark stubble poked out over and around the mostly purple bruise. He frowned as he prepared to shave. He had no doubt that raking a razor over the slightly puffy patch of skin was going to hurt. The split in his lip showed only a thin scab of blood, and was fortunately not as swollen as it was the night before. Slowly he pulled the razor over the bruised patch of skin first in hopes that the pain would dissipate as he finished shaving the uninjured parts of his face.

Pulling the razor over the back of his jaw Ianto let his thoughts once more wander to Jack. The ever mysterious Jack whom he'd probably never see again, let alone feel the skin of Jack's face pressed to his…and wonder what Jack's face would feel like in the morning before shaving pressed against his own cheek. He thrust the razor under the water running from the tap, shaking his head at the irrational thought of the blue eyed stranger. Despite knowing the man's name, Jack was still a stranger. Sure Jack had cheekily introduced himself and declared that they knew each other, but in the end neither knew the other—not in the sense that they knew last names, places of employ, any number such as telephone or mobile, or whether either man was honestly interested in more than the moment they'd created in the club. Jack had been, Ianto had surmised that much with Jack's parting words: "Hope we meet again someday, Ianto." Ianto couldn't help but hope the same, though he wasn't sure exactly why he wanted it or if he really wanted to see Jack again.

A part of him really wanted to—the same part that wouldn't let the kiss Jack had given him fade from his mind. But another part of him hoped that he'd never see Jack again—the part that was forever loyal to Lisa. He hated that part of himself. He hated the part that was beginning to long for Jack and the intimacy the kiss he'd given promised. He washed the patches of shave gel from his face. There had been more intimacy in the kiss he'd shared with Jack than he and Lisa had had for a long time. If he were to be truly honest, he and Lisa hadn't shared a kiss that honest in near two years.

Blue eyes blinked and stared back at him from the mirror. He hadn't thought about the lack of intimacy he and Lisa had shared since there first six months together. In fact he'd tried not to think of it at all. Lisa was the only girl for him—the only one he ever saw. Before the move from London he'd considered asking Lisa to marry him. He'd stopped by a couple of different jewelers weeks ago, and each time he'd left empty handed telling himself and the jeweler that he didn't quite see what he was looking for. Even then he'd felt the end with Lisa was coming, and yet he followed her from London to Wales. He'd also been tempted to blame the dare for his change of heart and mind about Lisa, but if he were to be truly honest with himself he had to blame himself for staying too long with Lisa and her mostly frozen heart.

He slid the worn leather of his belt through the loops of his suit trousers. Perhaps his desire had not been following Lisa, but leaving London. He pulled a thin, plain white shirt over his head, tucking it into the waist band of his trousers. He caught his reflection in the mirror again and stared. For the first time in two days his mind was silent. No thoughts of Jack and the amazing kiss searing through his mind, swirling and threatening to drown his thoughts of Lisa. The dare that had started his two day down spiral of independence from what he and Lisa had built together…the life they thought they would have. Just his blue eyes staring fiercely back at him from the mirrors reflective surface.

Ianto sighed and slid the dark purple dress shirt he'd picked out from its hanger. Breaking the eye lock with his reflection, he slipped the shirt onto his arms and shrugged it over his shoulders. Deftly his slim fingers worked the small plastic buttons through the corresponding holes. Reaching the last button, he slipped it through the hole and proceeded to tuck the smooth fabric into the top of his trousers.

Unconsciously his left hand came up to cup the uninjured side of his face; without thought his thumb stroked across his cheek bone. Images of Jack from his memory of the one and only time they met at the club slammed through him. Ianto suddenly found himself full of the impulse to find Jack…to see if there might be more than a dared kiss between them.

Gathering up things and clearing up his mess from the sink Ianto couldn't help but think it strange how he'd never once entertained the thought of kissing a man, and then he had. And since that night he couldn't stop feeling that man's lips hot on his, body pressed tight to his, hands on his body in a far more intimate way than even his girlfriend had touched him in more than a year. Now he felt himself longing for all of that…with Jack. Jack whom may as well be a figment of his imagination for all the chance he had of finding the man in Cardiff. Needle in the proverbial hay stack. He gathered up his dirty clothing, flicked the lock on the door, turning the knob he exited the bathroom.

"How was the sofa?" a voice said, shaking him from his thoughts of Jack.

"Mostly comfortable. Thank you," he said—brain registering that Lisa was up and had spoken to him.

"You could have taken the bed, Ianto," she said softly, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I would have taken the sofa…it's what I deserve for what I…" she let the sentence die, ducking her head down to study her bowl of cereal. "Bought some food on the way home last night." She shoved a bag of shopping across the counter to him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, looking over the contents of the bag.

"I figured it was the least I could do." She looked up briefly from her cereal, smile faltering before turning her face back to the bowl in front of her on the counter. "Tried to make sure it was all stuff you could eat."

"It is," he said. "Thank you."

"What happened?"

"I dunno, Lisa," he said, pulling a box of cereal from the bag and tugging the tabs open, "I don't think that we were ever right for each other."

"What?" she questioned, staring at him hard for a half a second. "That may be true, but I was talking 'bout your face, Yan, what happened? Noticed it when I got home last night, but it was late and I didn't want to wake you."

"Oh," he murmured, setting a bowl on the counter top. Tipping the box slightly Ianto poured the contents into the bowl.

"I know you've ended us…no, that's not true is it?" she said, setting her spoon in the bowl, staring at him again. "I ended us. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She turned back to her bowl, picking up the spoon and filling her mouth with the crunchy cereal she was eating.

"Yesterday after lunch," he said as he let out a breath, "passed the building…thinking…turned round to head back when I was pulled into an alley. Was mugged." He doused his cereal with the milk Lisa had left on the counter.

"My God, Ianto!" She gasped out, once again abandoning her spoon to the bowl of cereal. "And they did that to you?" He nodded, mouth full of his favorite brand, really the only brand, of gluten free frosted flakes. "Did you fight back?"

"Couldn't," he said simply. "Had a knife to my throat."

"Did you report it at least?"

"And tell them what exactly?" He snapped, locking eyes with her. "That I was pulled into an alley by a tall, scruffy looking man wearing a long beat up coat…and that he smelt terrible. That pretty much describes any homeless person out there, Lisa. They wiped out my cash…didn't even touch the credit cards, and they gave it back." He plunged his spoon into the bowl of crunchy flakes, filled it and popped it into his mouth in indication that he was finished talking about the subject.

He had nothing left to say about the mugging. There was no reason, other than stupid pride, why he did not report the incident. At the time he'd just wanted to get back to the flat and forget that it happened at all. Reporting the mugging would have been admitting that it'd happened—admitting that he was hauled into an alley and had a knife pressed against his throat while his money was slipped quietly from his wallet and in broad daylight no less. Nothing more than his pride was taken in the daring assault therefore there was no pressing need to report it.

Had the thieves taken his entire wallet, or made off with his credit card, he would have gone straight to the police and reported the entire incident. That, however, was not the case. The only thing missing from his wallet was his cash, which totaled up to barely twenty-five pounds. He winced inwardly at the amount taken, but it could have been more had they taken his credit card. Before he could report it stolen, the men could have charged thousands. The bruises were nothing, little embarrassing sure, but nothing compared to having someone out there stealing his identity. After he'd thought about it, the men taking only his cash was lucky.

"You look nice," she said after a long minute, turning back to her bowl of mostly milk, giving up the argument over reporting the mugging.

"Thank you," he said around a mouth full of cereal.

"Will you be working late?" she asked, moving around him to place her empty bowl in the sink.

"It's doubtful," he said, around a bite of cereal. "But I'll be in the director's office, so it's always a possibility."

"Sorry I was in so late last night," she said, tapping her long, thin fingers against the countertop.

"Not sure what there is left to talk about, Lisa." He sat his empty bowl on the counter. "I've said all I care to. Once I've settled at work I'll check round for a temporary place to live."

"You don't have to go," she said quickly. "We could work it out, Yan."

"No, Lisa, we can't," he said slowly—carefully. "I've never been sure of where I stand with you, Lisa. I've thought of you as my girlfriend and as my fiancé…what was I to you, Lisa? Because at the club I felt like a toy and a joke. I can't—no, Lisa, I will not stay and be put in to another situation I am uncomfortable with. I loved you…that's why I caved so many times and gave in to all your desires. I have to go."

Lisa opened her mouth to speak only to close it again. She watched as Ianto left the kitchen. Her eyes tracked him as he sat on the sofa to pull on his socks and then his always shined dress shoes.

"Have a good day at work," he said, slipping on his suit jacket before ducking out the door.

Stabbing at the down button for the lift, Ianto let out a deep breath. He'd expected a fight, or more of one, from Lisa. She would have given it to him too, if he had been in the mood to allow things to get that far. He didn't want to fight…not any more. He just wanted to leave before he couldn't or lost his nerve to. The lift doors opened revealing an empty car. He stepped inside and pressed the button to the lobby. The ride down was short and mostly smooth for the first time in days. Lisa would not stop trying to smooth things over with him until he took her back. She'd continue telling him what she thought she deserved, doing nice things for him, taking blame until he once again gave in and came back. Not this time.

Until he found somewhere else to live his new bed would be the sofa. He could so easily take the bed, but he knew what would have happened. Lisa would creep in long after he'd turned in for the night and slip into bed with him. The first night she'd do nothing but the next night she'd attempt to lure him into sex with the hopes that that would solve all their ills. Sleeping on the sofa ensured that she would stay away. The lift doors opened and he stepped out into an empty lobby.

Walking quickly, Ianto crossed the lobby and exited the building. A fine mist hit his face as he stepped out into a cool Welsh morning. The misting rain caused Ianto to move a bit more hastily to the car park across from the apartment building. Lisa had arranged the parking situation, taking the parking space closer to the building and giving him the space in the car park across the street and around behind a small shop to him. The arrangement had not pleased him when she told him, but now he thought it a good arrangement…especially since he wouldn't have to live with it much longer, or so he dearly hoped.

Unlocking the door of his mid-sized sedan, he quickly slid behind the wheel escaping the misting rain.

Torchwood Institute Cardiff was nestled in the older part of the bay area, not far from the Roald Dhal Plass and the bay. Ianto parked his vehicle in a car park half a block from the stout building. It was far from the shining glass of the Torchwood London's tall towers on Canary Warf. This building was barely five stories high, and appeared to be constructed of heavy granite blocks on the first floor anyway. He quickly pulled open the door, that was to his surprise glass and not thick oak, and entered the building. He'd have thought he had the wrong building were it not for the sign in the small raised floral bed in front of the building…and the etching on the glass door indicating that this building did in fact belong to Torchwood Institute.

"Hello!" a cheery voice, with a thick Welsh accent greeted Ianto as he brushed his suit flat.

"Good morning," he said in response.

"How can I help you this morning?" the voice asked. Ianto took a moment to study the man seated behind a small table. He wore a security uniform. Short, dark hair was combed back as neatly as the cut would allow. Ianto figured the man was close his own age, perhaps five or so years older, but no more than that. The man wasn't as thin as himself, but with his health issues not many people were. The man wore a boisterous smile.

"Mr. Jackson Harkness, please," he said, moving closer to the table.

"He hates being called that," the man said, reaching for the phone on the corner of the table.

"What does he prefer?" Ianto asked, off handed, as the man dialed a number.

"Rhys."

"He prefers to be called Rhys?" confusion laced through Ianto's voice.

"Sorry, no. I'm Rhys," the man clarified. "He prefers Jack."

Ianto stared at Rhys a long moment. Jack. Jack from the club leapt back to the top of his thoughts in vivid living color. Jack's hands were hot on his body again, lips warm and pressing firmly against his. He could once again feel the heat of Jack's body as it pressed close to his. Ianto shook the thoughts and memory away. This Jack was not…could not possibly be the same Jack.

"You all right there, mate?" Rhys asked, settling the phone back on its base.

"Uh…yeah," he said, lost for a second. "Sorry just a bit nervous…first day."

"Not to worry, Jack's a great guy. Tosh'll take care of you."

Just behind the security table the lift dinged and the doors opened. A woman stepped out. Her dress, while smart, was a bit more casual than his own. Her black trousers were slightly wide in the leg, yet fitted through the waist and hips. Beneath a dark wrap, a fitted shirt hinted at the trim figure she was mostly hiding. Dark hair was pulled back, accentuating her Asian beauty.

"Ianto," she said, not asking he noted. She extended her hand. "Toshiko Sato." He took her small hand in his for a brief, firm hand shake.

"Yes," he said, with the best smile the wounds on his face would allow.

"Let's get you up stairs," Toshiko said, returning his smile and trying hard not to stare at his face. She turned toward the lift. "You worked the archives in London?"

"Yes," Ianto said, following her to the lift.

One of her delicate fingers stretched out to press the up button. Seconds later the doors opened and they stepped on to the lift. Ianto couldn't tell if the air in the lift felt heavy and thick or if it was just him. Toshiko pressed the button for the second floor.

"What sort of things did you do in the archives?" She asked once the lift's doors were closed. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Filing mostly," he answered. "There were three of us in the archives. I handled the checking in and refilling of anything borrowed…mostly just old research files."

"You've worked a desk before?"

"A bit," he said, suddenly feeling as though he were being interviewed. "Why do you want to know?"

"Sorry," she said as the lift came a halt, and the doors opened to reveal a smartly decorated, but bland office. "I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that I've been Jack's and John's secretary for longer than anticipated…"

"And you don't want to have to do too much babysitting?" he cut in predicting, he hoped, what she was going to say next.

"Something like that," she said with a large smile sliding across her face.

"You said Jack and John," she nodded, stepping from the lift and starting down a short hall behind the lifts, "Am I to be working for more than the director?"

Before he left London, back when he'd put in for the transfer, he'd been told the position was as a personal assistant to Jackson Harkness Director of Torchwood Institute Cardiff; no mention had ever been made of a John. He groaned inwardly wanting to inflict great pain on the person who had left the minor detail out of the job description.

"Due to budget Jack and John decided it best to not hire someone to work for John," she explained, coming to a stop before an almost empty desk. "This is yours."

"Thank you," he said, trying not to sound too smart with her. "Who is John?"

"He's kind of like Jack's second in command," she said almost carefully. "John handles all the little things Jack doesn't always have time for."

"Or he just doesn't want to do," a decidedly male voice said from behind them. Ianto turned to face the new comer. Blond hair was combed neatly back, masking the length of it. Brown eyes gave Ianto an appraising once over before once more settling on his face. The look in the man's eyes did not mirror the smile lighting his face. "John Hart." He offered Ianto his hand.

"Ianto Jones." He took the proffered hand in a firm shake.

"Tell me you know how to make coffee?" John asked, moving suddenly away from Ianto to an office behind the plain desk that would soon be his. "No offense, Tosh, but your coffee is 'bout the worst I've ever had."

"No, mine's the second worst," she said quickly, "you've had Jack's coffee, haven't you?"

"True," John shouted from the office. "So, Ianto, coffee…?"

"Yes," he said with a nod, "I can make coffee."

"We'll get to that in a bit," Tosh said with a slight wink, walking round the desk. "First, let's get started getting you trained to take over by the end of the week."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

A/N: I do apologize for my massive delay in getting this chapter out. It started with writer's block that turned into a massive freak out over plot, but that was solved quickly with the help of LittleSweetPea and KodiacMak (afraid I misspelled that, sorry). T:he writing was going well and then real life decided to jump in there in the form of sinus headaches (me, total wimp w/them), and bronchial infection 2x for the baby...and then there's more but that would just take up tons of room. The good news is that I have this noted up to 12 chapters. I have decided to make this a long as necessary for the entire story I want to be told to be told, so if it goes over 12 chapters then that's what'll happen. Hoping that chapter 6 won't take so damn long to write. Also, this chapter was not quite where I wanted things to go, but Ianto decided to hell with what I want and did his own thing. And in a cool factor, met Ray Park last weekend. Okay well it's after midnight and I'm thinking the baby's getting sick again (hoping it's just allergies though) and he tends to get up early. Hope that this chapter is as good as previous. always reviews are welcome.

Please pardon any mistakes I made. Was able to edit the first 7.5 pages of this chapter, but did not get to the last 4 or so.

* * *

**The Dare**

**Chapter Five**

"Before you do," John said from his office doorway, "has Jack been heard from?"

"He phoned last night to say that he would be leaving Manchester early this morning and should be in this afternoon for a few hours," Tosh said "Said something about getting things round for his morning meetings."

Ianto watched the short exchange in silence—noticing that Tosh was looking at John while relaying Jack's message, but John's gaze did not meet hers. John's brown eyes were fixed on him; not raking over him, appraising, glaring or making him too uncomfortable. A light smile played across John's lips before his eyes left him focusing their attention on Tosh. John chuckled and muttered something about Jack and work before ducking back into his office. Ianto closed his eyes and took a steadying breath in an attempt to file away the oddness of the way one of his new bosses had looked at him. It was nothing, he told himself, nothing more than the oddity of a new face in a familiar place. He blinked slowly, looking away from John's office and back to the screen of the computer monitor sitting centre of the desk's top. Blue wallpaper dotted with icons stared back at him. He recognized a few of the icons peppering the screen of the monitor—web browser, the institutes email system, word processing programme, and spread sheet.

"See any you already know?" Tosh asked, causing Ianto to startle. She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled from her throat. "Sorry."

"No," he said quickly, gulping in air, hand covering his chest, "no, it's all right. Guess that I zoned out for a moment. What was that you asked?"

"You can relax, Ianto," she said, hesitantly laying her hand on his arm, "while we give the appearance of formal it's really a relaxed atmosphere. Jack thinks that keeping people relaxed and happy makes them more productive. That's why London's labeled him as difficult."

"Right," he said with a nod. "So…um, what was the question again?"

She smiled, softly, patting his arm before pulling back to grab hold of the computer's mouse. "Are there any programmes you're already familiar with?" She scrolled the mouse over the icons, settling on the calendar programme.

"Email, web, word processor, and spread sheet," he said, once again focusing his attention on the monitor screen.

"That makes things much easier," she sighed, clicking on the calendar programme. "London doesn't have this programme…created it myself."

"You work in IT then?" Ianto asked, staring at her for a long moment. He really didn't know why that surprised him. To be working for two bosses at Torchwood, she obviously was no idiot.

"I run IT," she clarified. "There's me and two other people who write programmes and keep the computers in this building running."

"And only three of you?"

"Yes," she said, clearly wanting to move on. "I've been working up here three days a week and down stairs two days a week."

"You definitely could do with a holiday," he smiled at her.

She smiled back, "Suppose I could. But first let's get you trained, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a smile.

Ianto watched and listened intently, taking studious notes, as Toshiko began to demonstrate and explain the calendar programme. John's and Jack's calendars were side by side on the screen. It was genius—beyond it really. He would be able to manage both men's schedules much easier being able to see them side by side rather than switching between each man's calendars. Switching between calendars would have taken too much time and would have become confusing very quickly. Even cleverer, he thought, was that an e-mail was automatically sent to Jack or John alerting them to a newly scheduled appointment.

"You get all that?" she asked, looking away from the screen.

"Got it," Ianto confirmed, taking a quick look over his notes.

"All right," she said with a brief nod, "On to reports then."

He nodded, absently turning the page on the notepad. In a careful script he wrote Reports at the top. Toshiko closed the calendar programme, as she began to explain the types of reprts John and Jack would need. Ianto once again took careful notes as he listened to Toshiko's instructions.

Ianto's gaze casually took in the time being displayed on the task bar's clock. Two hours had passed since he and Tosh had sat down to begin the tutorial of his job. His notes filled just over six pages—covering everything from the calendar she'd first showed him to answering the telephone. His new job was almost easier than the archives in London. Archives, he scoffed mentally, really a fancy word for file clerk. Secretary was much more straight forward, he thought; even if the fact that he'd be working for two people was left out of the description.

"Now that you've showed him all the 'bout the computer," John Hart said, standing before Ianto's new desk, "could you please show him to the coffee machine? Please, Tosh?"

Tosh giggled at the pleading tone to John's voice. Ianto smiled shyly a little unsure if John was being serious in his pleading for coffee or simply being cheeky in asking for coffee to be made. His eyes moved from Tosh's slight form, shoulders shaking with barely contained giggles, to John. He was almost surprised to find the man wearing a broad smile. Ianto relaxed a little at the sight of John's lips pulled back into a smile. The smile, he noted, was not as inviting as Jack from the club's had been. Jack from the club? He mentally smacked himself for attaching a name like that to the man he'd only hours before hoped to be able to find. Though until he found Jack, if he could, Jack from the club was the only way he really had to identify the tall, more than handsome American with a stunning smile. A smile he now found himself comparing John Hart's to.

"I'd make it myself," he heard John say as he forced his thoughts of Jack and the smile comparison to the back of his mind, "but after a new machine had to bought the first, and only, time I made coffee—well long story short…Jack has forbade me get near the machine lest I break it."

Ianto smiled at the rushed explanation John had stumbled through. He dared consider it endearing. He looked away from the pleading face John was giving them. It was a pitiful site, really—hands clasped in front of his chest, mouth pulled into a sweet smile, brown eyes gazing at them beseechingly. Rounding the entire pitiful look was John's own barely contained laughter.

"Please, please?" John whined, eyes fixed solely on Tosh, lips pushed into a pout.

"Just promise you'll pull that lip up," Tosh said, pushing her chair away from the desk, "don't want to spend the rest of the day tripping over it."

"Promise," he said quickly, eyes bouncing over Ianto before retreating to his office, smiling like a loon.

Ianto didn't hide his eyes following John's form as the other man moved away from the desk and back to his office. There was something Ianto found both interesting and disturbing about his boss. He pushed his chair away from the desk and followed Tosh to a small kitchen area down another short hall back toward the lifts. It wasn't overly small, but was far from being large enough to not be mistaken for a closet. A large coffee machine sat in the centre of the counter next to the sink. Across the kitchenette on the only other counter top sat a microwave. Lining the walls above and below the counters were cupboards. He wasn't sure how they managed it, but sandwiched between the sink and the corner by the door was a refrigerator.

"It's not all that much," Tosh said, "but it suits the needs up here."

"Will it just be the three of us then?" he asked quietly. He was hesitant to know the answer. He liked Toshiko and really didn't want to be alone with John—even though with Jack around he wouldn't really be alone with John.

Tosh nodded. "It's not so bad really. John's usually in a meeting or on the phone. Jack too. Actually, you'll probably be spending a good deal of your time mostly alone."

"Right," he said, moving toward the coffee machine. "So, um…where is everything I'll need to make the coffee?"

Fluidly her slender body moved about the kitchenette. "There's milk and cream in the fridge," she said, her hands pulling open the cupboard to the left above the coffee machine. "Here are the coffee beans," she sat a tall slender jar on the counter, "and here's the sugar," she placed a larger, more stoutly, jar on the counter beside the coffee jar.

"Thank you," he said filling the machine with the required amount of water. A short search of the cupboard below the machine turned up a coffee grinder. He allowed his thoughts to wander as he fingers nimbly opened the jar of coffee beans. Jack once again filled his mind. For once it wasn't Jack from the club floating through his thoughts. It was Jack—Jackson Harkness—his new boss. A part of him hoped that club Jack and Jack Harkness were one and the same. The other part prayed that the Jack's were not the same man. Having to spend every day looking at Jack's almost too handsome face, seeing the beautiful smile, and knowing what it felt like to have the man's lips pressed against his own was just this side of too much for him to handle. And then there was John.

John who had, at first, seemed to not like him, or at least that was what Ianto had thought he'd read in John's eyes that morning. Standing over the percolating coffee machine, Ianto was no longer certain of what he'd seen in the other man's eyes that morning as whatever it was he'd seen was not there when John had come begging for coffee minutes ago. Whatever he'd seen in the older man's eyes had softened, or disappeared—Ianto could not be sure which.

Another search of the cupboards—above the counter tops this time—uncovered a shelf full of plain white coffee mugs. They clanked against one another as he removed three of them from the shelf and placed them in an orderly row on the counter top beside the coffee machine. John, he had to admit to himself, was handsome—more or less, in his own way. He wasn't too sure about John's choice of hair style. Hair style aside, there was something in the way the skin in the corner of John's eyes crinkled when he smiled—genuinely—Ianto liked. 'You've only just met him,' he chided himself as he poured the dark liquid from the coffee pot in to each mug. 'He's only smiled at you twice, and the first time the smile didn't match his eyes.'

He carefully took the mugs from the counter and made his way down the hall to his desk. Tosh was sat in her chair, phone in hand. He circumspectly sat a mug in front of her, leaving his closer to his chair before making his way to John's office. John was sat at his desk, a large, cherry oak piece of furniture, eyes firmly on his monitor screen, phone in hand and talking softly. Ianto knocked solidly on the door's frame to announce his presence. To Ianto's mild surprise, John turned away from his computer work, excused himself from his phone conversation, and turned to Ianto.

"Your coffee, Sir," he said, handing the plain white mug full of steaming black liquid to his boss.

John smile warmly—his eyes still holding a glint Ianto could not identify—as he took the coffee and sniffed deeply. John's smile deepened in obvious pleasure and joy of the warm liquid in the plain mug held in his hand. John moved the mug slowly toward his mouth, so as not to spill it—hazel eyes locked on Ianto. He blew across the steaming liquid before placing the mug against his pale lips to pull a small amount of the coffee from the mug. Ianto half expected a hiss of pain and a grunted thank you at that moment. He never would have expected the reaction he got. John hummed lightly as he swallowed the small test sip, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, in delight. Ianto's lips pulled into a hesitant smile. He'd made many pots of coffee in London, but never had he seen a person's reaction to it. He'd always received compliments on his coffee, but no one had ever taken a sip of it in front of him.

"Devine," John declared after a much deeper drink of the coffee. Setting the mug on the left side of his desk, John once again fixed his gaze on Ianto. "With coffee like that, I may have to reconsider sharing you with Jack."

Ianto looked at the floor, uncomfortable with John's hazel gaze. There was a glint to the man's eyes Ianto recognized as lust and something else he could not recognize. He wasn't sure which way he preferred the man to look at him—with obvious interest or with what Ianto could only describe as distain.

"Thank you, Sir," he said, moving his gaze from the floor back to John's. "Shouldn't that be the other way round, Sir, as I was under the impression that I belonged to Jack?" He cringed inwardly as the words left his lips.

John let out a light chortle. "I like you," he said with a laugh. His eyes still bright with the something Ianto couldn't identify.

"Thank you, Sir," Ianto said, fighting the urge to look away from John's gaze. "It's good to know."

Ianto wasn't quite sure how it was possible, but John's already tooth bearing grin deepened. The little twinkle in the man's eyes that he could not quite find the word to describe disappeared as the smile on John's face reached his eyes. The hearty laugh from the other man caused Ianto to let out a small chuckle of his own and smile shyly.

"Sassy and a bit shy," John assessed, pushing his chair away from the desk. "That," he stood and slowly moved around the desk to stand closer to Ianto, "can be such a sexy combination," he drawled—finger tips of one hand, the one hidden by Ianto's tall, thin framed body, ghosting over Ianto's suit jacket.

"Might want to be careful, sir," Ianto began, moving back a half step, "wouldn't want things to be mistaken for harassment."

John's smile faltered for a moment, the twinkle that had been in his brown eyes a second ago disappeared, and he moved back behind his desk.

"Too right you are," he said, brushing his finger tips across the high shine finish of the desk. "That was far from the impression I wanted to give—especially on your first day and all."

"Of course, Sir."

"I'll try my best to restrain myself."

"I appreciate that, Sir," Ianto said stiffly. "I'll just be getting back to work then, Sir." He turned as quickly as he dared, so as to not appear to be fleeing, and moved toward the door.

"Ianto," John called before he could get more than two steps away. Ianto stopped, turning just enough to be able to look John in the eye. "Not to sound too harassing, but you are an incredibly attractive man…I would be remiss if I didn't mention how attractive I find you."

"Is that all, Sir?" Despite the calmness of his voice, Ianto felt shaky—as though he would vibrate to pieces. A person in a position of power should not be attracted to or enter into a relationship with a subordinate, in Ianto's opinion at least.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Ianto," John said after a long moment. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable working here. I'll keep the flirting to a minimum…but I'll not deny my attraction to you."

Ianto stared hard at the other man for more seconds than he dared count, uncertain of what he should do or say. On the one hand he was flattered and happy to know that there would no need to imagine more was behind John's flirtations. On the other hand it would have been easier to work with the man in blissful ignorance of intention and attraction behind the flirting. If he were to be completely honest, though, neither thought sat well with him.

"Better get back to Toshiko and training," Ianto said, lips pulling into a brief smile.

"Thanks, Ianto," John said, purposely not putting the coffee first, "for the coffee."

"You're welcome, Sir," Ianto once again turned toward the door.

"Ianto," John called after him—once more stopping the young man in his tracks.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Tosh told you we're a bit more informal than London office, did she not?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Please stow the sir—it's John."

Ianto nodded lightly, quickly taking his leave from John's office. He sighed inwardly before hastily moving back to his desk. Tosh was once again on the phone, coffee mug cradle in one hand. Quietly as he could, Ianto pulled his chair away from the desk and sat himself in it. Already savoring the aroma of the coffee in the mug before him, Ianto reached for the mug he'd left for himself. His fingers had just curled around the stark white handle of the mug when the lift dinged down the hall to signal its arrival. Before he could bring the mug of still steaming liquid to his lips a boisterous, and distinctly American voice greeted everyone in earshot—which, Ianto figured, was at least two floors above theirs and perhaps the lobby.

Instinctively Ianto's head shot up to see who had spoken. His eyes widened and he could have sworn the world, not just him, had stopped. Breezing up to the desk was none other than Jack from the club. His clothes were different, but the hair, heartbreakingly beautiful face, and too blue eyes were the same. Ianto carefully sat the mug of hot coffee back on the desk—happy he hadn't gotten to take that sip. He tried not to stare at the man he'd had on his mind for the last two days—and mostly succeeded—as Jack stopped to chat with Tosh.

"Ianto Jones," he blinked, startled by his name falling from the American's lips.

"Sorry, Sir," Ianto said, recovering quickly, "lost myself to thought for a second."

"A good one, I hope," Jack quipped back with a wink. Ianto could not help the smile that spread across his face, nor the hot spread of embarrassment through his cheeks. Jack had to recognize him from the club. "It's nice to finally meet you," Jack said, once more breaking through Ianto's thoughts. "Tosh," Jack's attention moved back to Tosh, and Ianto was glad for it, "did you make coffee?"

She shook her head no, having taken a large sip just as Jack began the question.

"John didn't…?" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"No," Tosh said sharply. "There's no way we'd be allowed in the building this early had John got near the machine."

"Good, good," Jack said. "Then who?" His questioning eyes fell on Ianto. Ianto again tried not to stare at the man.

"Ianto," Tosh said. "It's _the_ best I've ever had."

"Fancy a cup, Sir?" Ianto forced himself to ask—an attempt to stave off the shock threatening to take him over. He hoped he looked more collected than he felt. Inwardly he felt conflicted. In the span of a few seconds he'd gone from shock and awe to anger to annoyed to embarrassed to disbelief and back to shock and embarrassment.

"Please," Jack said, a dazzling smile sliding easily across his face. For a moment, the briefest second, Ianto was struck dumb. Forgetting to breathe was second how to move. He remembered how to breathe moments before he regained muscle control over his body again.

He shook his head to clear it from the memories of Jack pressed close to him at the club, lips molding to and moving with his, and the way Jack had turned one of the most uncomfortable situations he'd ever been in to one of the sexiest situations he'd ever been in. He pushed his chair away from the desk—a bit too quickly if the looks Tosh and Jack were giving him was anything to judge by. Ianto gave them a smile that was both embarrassed and apologetic before stepping away from the desk and hurrying down the hall. The hasty slap of his hard soled dress shoes reverberated through the hall as he walked. Behind him, Ianto could hear the voices of his new co-workers, but not what they were saying—it was about him, of that he was nearly certain.

He was after all the new guy in the office; the new guy who not two nights before had, had his bosses tongue down his throat; the new guy who had been hit on that very day by his other boss. There was more than plenty to chat and gossip about. He yanked open the cabinet containing the coffee mugs he'd found less than ten minutes before. Reaching into the cabinet he grabbed the handle of the first mug he saw. Pulling it from the shelf he set it down hard on the counter next to the coffee machine. He flinched at the hard clanking clunk that echoed around the kitchenette. He hadn't meant to nearly break the mug—it was quite simply the easiest thing in the office to take his racing emotions out on.

Jack had known exactly who he was—and long before names were ever exchanged. The thought stopped Ianto cold. Jack had to have known who he was before their lips ever touched…before Ianto told him about the stupid dare. Anger surged through him as his fingers wrapped around the handle to the coffee pot. Jack had known who he was and kissed him anyway—worse yet, Jack had cajoled him into the kiss. Jack wanted to kiss him. His thoughts stopped cold once again. If he were the type to draw strange lines or create wild theories he could almost think—believe—that Jack had been in on the dare from the start.

But he was not one of those people—lucky for Jack. Unlucky for Jack he began to wonder why Jack didn't bother to introduce himself further or stick around after the kiss. Instead he was left reeling and stuck with thoughts of another man's lips on his—not to mention, or to, wondering who the American named Jack really was and/or _if _they would ever meet again. And all this time Jack knew they would meet again. He'd known when and where they'd meet again!

A wet heat snapped Ianto from his rampaging thoughts. The coffee had filled the mug and spilled over the brim to cover half the counter and begin dripping over the counter's edge, streaking down the cabinets.

"Shit," he hissed, yanking his hand away from the mug he'd been holding. Nearly throwing the pot of hot coffee back to the machine's warming pad, Ianto quickly turned on the cold water in the sink. He allowed the water to flow a few seconds before thrusting his scalded hand under the flow from the tap. "Damn it," he swore at himself, doing his best to keep his voice down. He had nothing against swearing; he just didn't like to hear his voice saying words like that. However, when the situation called for it he could, would, and often did swear.

Pulling open a drawer next to the sink, Inato's frustration grew—it was empty. He tried not to slam the drawer closed before pulling open the drawer below it. Nothing again. He swore mentally. There had to be at least one dish towel in the kitchen; what kitchen didn't? This one, apparently, he hissed at himself dryly. He pulled open another drawer, the fourth one, and let out a tight sound of relief that was somewhere between a sigh and a giggle. He used one to dry the hand he'd scalded. He shook his head and laughed again as he pulled more towel from the drawer—he really needed to stop thinking of Jack. Nothing good, other than the thoughts themselves, had come of it thus far.

Jack had been on his mind when he'd been mugged. He'd gotten lost in thought in thought of Jack and forgotten he was at work. And just now he'd been so caught up in thoughts of Jack he'd over filled Jack's mug and scalded his hand with hot coffee—not to mention the dark liquid making its way across the counter top and dripping down the front of the cabinet to the floor.

Being careful to not get any more coffee on his suit than there already was, Ianto laid a towel across the front edge of the counter to stop the coffee from pooling on the floor. Plucking another towel from the drawer he quickly wiped the wet streaks of coffee from the cabinet faces before dropping it to the floor to soak up the small puddle there. Grabbing a third towel he began mopping the dark liquid up from the counter. Two more towels later and all of the coffee was cleaned up as though it had never happened—save for the now coffee scented and soaked dish towels balled in the sink.

He, again, was unsure if he should be angry with Jack for once more invading his thought and distracting him to the point of injury, or if he should be irritated with himself for allowing himself to become so distracted. Not even Lisa had managed to bore into his thoughts the way Jack had. He wanted to say the he minded the way Jack had invaded his thoughts, but it would have been a lie.

And then there was John. He sighed and shook his head. He'd only broken it off with Lisa twenty-four hours ago, and here he was day dreaming about Jack—comparing John to Jack no less. Flirting, normally a harmless thing, in this case could only lead both Jack and John on. Was he really ready to go straight from Lisa to another relationship? He wondered as he finished making Jack's cup of coffee. He carefully picked the mug from the counter and moved as quickly as he dared to his boss's office—one massive spill of coffee was enough for one week.

With caution to not spill the hot liquid, again, Ianto approached the door to Jack's office. For a long moment he watched the dark haired man move about the space shifting stacks of paper from one side of the desk to the other—even from one shelf of the bookcase along to wall to another. Ianto couldn't help but smile at the seemingly haphazard man creating new stacks of papers from the one's he was moving around the office.

He knocked on the door frame, cleared his throat and said, "Your coffee, Sir."

Jack stopped leafing through the stack of papers he held. Wide blue eyes stared at Ianto for countable seconds before he seemed to catch himself. An easy smile split his lips as he set the papers on the desk. "Thank you," he said, moving to meet Ianto just inside the door. "Sorry 'bout the mess; filing was never really my thing."

Ianto held the mug out to Jack, staring at the disaster zone that was Jack's office. Where's John's had been tidy and clean, Jack's was a mess of paperwork and file folders. He groaned inwardly at the time it was going to take to straighten Jack's office. By the time it was done and everything was in some semblance of order he was going to need a holiday—a long holiday.

"So, Ianto Jones, how do you like Cardiff?" Jack asked, changing the subject from his lack of file keeping to a safe first meeting topic.

Ianto blinked and stared, dumbfounded, at Jack for a long moment. Did Jack remember him from the club? Should he even mention it? Uncertainty clawed at his mind as he stared at his boss…his incredibly handsome boss. Jack's brilliant smile faded at Inato's lack of response to the question.

"Was it something I said?" he asked, taking a slow sip of the coffee. "Mmmmm," he hummed, cradling the mug with both hands. "Delicious."

"Thank you, Sir," he said, finding his voice at long last.

"Have I offended you in some way, Ianto? Or have my good look simply stunned you?" Jack asked, another stunning smile gracing his lips.

"Neither, Sir," he said, eyes slipping from the face of his too attractive boss to the carpet covering the floor.

Jack sat the mug of coffee in an empty spot on the desk. Turning back to Ianto, Jack gave the younger man a dubious look. "Neither?" He questioned. "If it's about the filing…" Jack stopped what he was about to say. "Come in and close the door."

Ianto quickly did as he was told; wondering what Jack was up to. "Sir?" he questioned, not sure whether he should feel comfortable or not in the small space. Though, truth be told, a part of him hoped Jack intended to kiss him again.

"Is there something you're trying not to say, Ianto?" Jack asked, leaning back against the desk.

"No, Sir," he said, eyes once more studying the floor. He didn't want to be the one to bring up the club, the kiss, or whether or not Jack knew who he was before they kissed. He wanted to know, but he was not going to forward enough to bring it up.

"Are you sure?"

Ianto nodded and said, "Quite, Sir."

"Look," Jack said, his tone edging toward serious, "Ianto, I may be the boss round here, but I also want to be your friend. If there's anything at all you want or need to talk to me about that door," he pointed to his office door, "is open—always."

"With the exception of now," he quipped without thinking.

Jack laughed, a short bark of a sound, at Ianto's impromptu joke. "Yes, of course."

"I will keep that in mind, Sir," he said.

"All right," Jack said almost too soft for Ianto's ears to pick up. "I'm asking because of the eye."

A part of Ianto was bitterly disappointed that what had happened at the club was being ignored. The other part of him was happy. He really didn't want to talk about breaking up with Lisa the morning after the whole club scene, nor did he really want to talk about what happened to his face. But if he had to choose between the two explaining the bruise on his face was easier…and less guilt inducing.

"Oh that," he said dismissively.

"Yes, that," Jack confirmed, not hiding the annoyance in his voice.

"I was mugged yesterday on the way back to my flat."

"Did you report it?"

Now he sounded like Lisa.

"No," he said, glaring at Jack. "No, I did not. There wasn't much point, Sir. I really didn't get a good look at him and only my cash was stolen."

"I'm sorry, Ianto," Jack said, pushing away from the desk to move closer to Ianto. "I don't like to see any of my employees hurt."

Jack stopped just close enough for Ianto to touch, but not so close that he could Jack's body heat. He again was torn between moving closer to Jack, invading his personal space, and stepping back.

"It's all right, Sir," he said, settling for stepping back. "There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it…at least I'm pretty sure there wasn't. If it's all right with you, Sir, I need to get back to Toshiko's training session."

"One last thing," Jack said, verbally catching Ianto. He was almost certain that Jack was going to mention something about the club. He forced himself to not wince as he once again looked at his boss. He nodded as if to say go ahead. "John did behave himself this morning, did he not?"

Ianto stared at Jack agape. John? Had Jack also known that John was going to hit on him? Did John misbehave often? He shook his head to clear out the questions and shock crowding his mind.

"Yes, Sir," he managed to say, forcing a tight smile to his lips, "he was."

"Let me know if he does anything to make you uncomfortable."

Ianto nodded before heading out of the office—thoughts once more swirling. Confusion over what had happened in Jack's office clouded his mind and over threw what had happened in John's office. Between the two he preferred what happened in John's office to the awkward moments in Jack's office. With John there was no need to pretend they hadn't met before; no need to act as though there had never been an intimate moment between them. With John he knew where he stood if he ever wanted to give in to the man's flirtations. With Jack he was torn…with Jack he wanted it a bit more. He could not explain it to himself, and he hoped he never had to attempt to.


	6. Chapter 6

Dear readers,

I'm not normally a fan of author's notes as an entire chapter, but this time I felt it was necessary. I do apologize to those whom this annoys, but the story, note and all, will be coming down soonish.

Want to take minute to say thank you to those who have read, commented, favorited, and signed up for alerts to this story; which makes what I'm about to say difficult. I will be taking this story down in the very near future. The reason is that I plan to convert what's already written from fan fiction to original work with the intent to publish—to do that I cannot keep writing it as a fan fiction or keep it in any form on the web. I will be taking every copy of this piece down by the end of the year or sooner.

I will post to my livejournal (link in my profile) news about this story in regards to if it's finished and sent off to a publisher for consideration. If/When it's picked up I'll post in my profile page and LJ the release date. As of now, my fan fiction writing career is on hold.

Questions/Comments about this are welcome as a review or a PM. Don't send/post it anonymously if you want an answer to what's said.

Little Wing


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